


The Way I Feel

by the_sky_is_forever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Parenthood, Trans Grantaire, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_sky_is_forever/pseuds/the_sky_is_forever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras are in a stable, loving relationship and Grantaire gets pregnant.<br/>-<br/>"He takes one look at the little blue cross and feels his legs give out beneath him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way I Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, to be clear, I am sixteen and have never had a child, nor have I been close to someone going through pregnancy. I know little about pregnancy but I have done an absurd amount of research for this fic. (No really, if someone were to look through my internet history they'd seriously think I'm pregnant and panicking.) If you see anything that's not right, please forgive me. Just... gloss over any discrepancies; I did my best. 
> 
> Title from Panic! At The Disco's "End Of All Things" - In these coming years many things will change, but the way I feel will remain the same.

Grantaire rolls out of his and Enjolras’ bed, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. He glances at his boyfriend – who is still fast asleep – over his shoulder, and he smiles. Things have been going so well between them that sometimes it’s hard to remember how bad things used to be.

Yawning, he heads off into the kitchen to make them both coffee, his bare feet padding across the carpeted floor.

When he returns to Enjolras, he hasn’t moved, and Grantaire sets the mugs down on the side before crawling on top of him. He shifts the blankets away from Enjolras’ face, and then smooths his hair out of the way too. “Come on,” he says, leaning down and kissing him on the lips. Enjolras groans and tries to bury himself in the blankets. “You have to get up.” He punctuates his words with another kiss. “At least get dressed. I know it’s your day off, but we can have a lazy day in front of the TV, okay?” He gives him another kiss and then climbs off to go and get dressed.

They spend the morning curled up on the sofa, Enjolras absentmindedly stroking Grantaire’s hair as they channel surf.

Shortly before lunch, Grantaire extricates himself from Enjolras warm embrace and slouches off to the bathroom. He sits down on the toilet and stares around the room, tiredly as he pees.

It’s as he’s washing his hands that he spots it – the unopened box of tampons on the shelf. He stills, the water still gushing from the tap, and his hands still under the stream. He… doesn’t remember when his last period was. He’s pretty sure it should have been last week, actually. Grantaire looks at the tampons on the shelf and takes a deep breath. He might not be pregnant. He might just be late. It’s happened before. But this time he’s a week late. That’s a long time.

“Fuck it,” he says, quietly to himself. “I’m going out!” he then yells through to Enjolras, grabbing his coat as he leaves their house.

Walking down the street, he feels terrified at the idea that he might be pregnant. What is he going to do? Enjolras doesn’t want kids. He just doesn’t. Grantaire, on the other hand…

It doesn’t matter.

He might not be pregnant.

The corner store is open, and Grantaire heads in. “Hey,” he says to the clerk. “Do you sell pregnancy tests and do you have a bathroom I can use?”

The person behind the counter blinks at him. “Uh, sure. Do you need help picking one?”

Grantaire looks over his shoulder, and then back at the clerk. “Please.”

He discovers that her name is Floréal, and she’s a mother of three, so she knows what she’s doing. “Take this one,” she says, holding out a box to him. “It’s really simple to use. The bathroom is through there. Yell for me if you need anything; I’ll be right outside the door.”

She ushers him over to the staff bathroom.

“Good luck,” she says. “Whatever it is you’re hoping for – good luck.”

He can’t do anything but nod and slip inside the bathroom.

Clutching the box in his hands, Grantaire feels sick with nerves. Maybe he should have done this with a friend. He reads through the instructions, though he’s fairly sure he knows what to do, and then he opens the box to pull out the little plastic cup that he’s supposed to pee in.

Squatting over the toilet and holding the cup in the right place isn’t all that easy, but he suspects it’ll be easier than the five minute wait for the results. And what comes after the results if he tests positive.

After that, he finds the stick and places the correct end into the pot of his pee. It feels ridiculous, doing something this important in a place like this. The mirror is grubby and there are handtowels on the floor around the bin. He can’t do it at home though; Enjolras would notice.

Now all there’s left to do is wait. He can’t stay in there, though, and he leaves the stick on the surface in the bathroom, and goes outside to where Floréal is standing, looking nervous. He stands with her, alternating between looking at his watch, and looking around the store.

“It’s going to be okay, you know?” Floréal says to him. “When I had my first, I was seventeen. He wasn’t even my boyfriend. I was terrified, but everything turned out to be okay.”

Grantaire just nods, now staring at the floor. Since when does time move so slowly?

“You don’t have anyone?” Floréal asks.

Grantaire clears his throat. “Enjolras,” he says, hoarsely. “I have Enjolras.”

“Oh,” Floréal says. “That’s your boyfriend?”

“Uh, yeah. But he- He doesn’t- I-”

“It’s going to be okay,” she says again, and he manages a small smile. “Even if he doesn’t, your friends will take care of you, right?”

“Right,” Grantaire agrees.

They fall back into silence.

“It should be done, by now,” Floréal says, and Grantaire glances down at his watch to see that she’s right. “You know what you’re looking for?” she asks. “Blue cross, positive. Blue line, negative.”

“Got it,” Grantaire says, and then he goes back into the bathroom.

He takes one look at the little blue cross and feels his legs give out beneath him. “Fuck.”

His phone chimes in his pocket, and Grantaire pulls it out. He opens the text, knowing that it’ll be Enjolras.

Sure enough: _You left in a hurry. Is everything okay? X_

Grantaire quickly taps out his reply: _Yeah I’m fine. I’m just gonna go visit jbm :) Enjoy your day – if you need me let me know! I love you x_

Enjolras replies: _Have fun. I love you too. X_

Grantaire lets out a breath he’d been holding and shoves his phone back inside his pocket.

On shaky legs, he makes it out of the bathroom, the box crushed in one hand, and the stick in the other.

“It’s positive,” he mumbles, at Floréal’s questioning look. He leaves the store before she can say anything, shoving the box and stick into the first bin he comes across.

-

Grantaire’s not sure how he gets there, but he finds himself knocking on Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta’s door. Musichetta’s the one to answer, and she takes one look at him and immediately yells for her boyfriends. Ushering Grantaire in, she leads him to the sofa and sits him down.

“What’s wrong?” she asks as Joly and Bossuet come in from the kitchen, the smell of enchiladas following them.

Grantaire stares at his hands as they shake. He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. He mumbles, “Enjolras,” and Joly and Bossuet are by his side in seconds.

“What about Enjolras?” Joly asks, taking hold of his hand.

“You didn’t… You guys didn’t break up, did you?” Bossuet asks, sounding worried.

“No,” Grantaire says, his voice sounding hoarse. “It’s only a matter of time, though.”

Musichetta frowns. “Why do you say that, sweetie?”

Grantaire licks his lips. Then he takes a deep breath. Exhales sharply. “I’m pregnant,” he says.

“That’s _great_ , Grantaire,” Musichetta says, and he can hear the smile in her voice, but he can’t look at her.

He can practically feel his friends looking at him. Joly squeezes his hand. “Why do you think Enjolras would break up with you because of this? Have you even told him?”

“I can’t- I can’t have an abortion,” Grantaire says. “I just can’t do it.”

Silence follows his words, and then, slowly, Bossuet asks, “Did Enjolras tell you that you had to get an abortion?” He sounds angry.

Grantaire’s head jerks up. “ _What_? No, do you think he’s going to? I- I mean- I know he doesn’t like kids, and like, having kids isn’t exactly in his life plan- but, I mean, we’ll just break up, right? I’ll keep the kid, he can- he can-”

“R,” Musichetta says, softly, “have you talked to Enjolras about this, or did you just assume?”

“What’s to talk about?” he asks, miserably. “He doesn’t want kids.”

“Grantaire,” Musichetta says. “When has Enjolras ever said that he doesn’t want kids? That’s not even the point, anyway. You want this and Enjolras wants you. Do you want me to come with you to tell him?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

“Grantaire,” Joly says. Grantaire looks at him. “Grantaire,” Joly says again, sounding like he’s gearing himself up to say something. “It’s his child too,” is what he eventually says. “He needs to know and he deserves to have a say in this.”

Grantaire looks back down at his knees.

“It’s your choice ultimately,” Bossuet says, “but Enjolras deserves to _know_.”

Grantaire nods.

“You’re going to be a wonderful dad, Grantaire,” Musichetta then says, just before she pulls him into her arms. “Now, are you staying for lunch? We can watch a movie.”

“Please. Let me just text Enjolras to let him know I’ll be a while.”

“Of course,” she says, getting to her feet.

The text that he gets back from Enjolras reads: _Okay, have fun! Let me know if you’re going out-out and if you’ll be back late :) I love you x_

Grantaire smiles down at his phone and smiles, hoping that everything will turn out okay.

_We won’t be. Movie night! I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to eat lunch. I love you too x_

-

Grantaire ends up staying out all day; eating dinner with his friends too as he mentally prepares for what is to come. He slips into bed with Enjolras later that night and wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. Enjolras stirs, wriggling closer into his arms. Pressing a gentle kiss to Enjolras’ cheek, Grantaire settles in.

With his boyfriend warm in his arms, it doesn’t take long for Grantaire to fall asleep, the small life inside him safely between the two of them.

-

The next day, he tells Enjolras that he’s going out for breakfast with Joly. It’s not exactly a lie. It’s just that, after breakfast, they also go to the clinic.

“They’re just going to do a blood test, okay, R?” Joly says. “It’ll confirm your pregnancy, and check that everything’s okay.”

Grantaire nods.

The nurse smiles at them. “Are you the father?” she asks Joly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, or at least I hope not. My girlfriend would kill me.”

“And your boyfriend wouldn’t?” Grantaire asks.

“Nah, Bossuet likes you.”

“So does Musichetta.”

“She’s not the sharing without being there type.”

The nurse looks a little lost and says, “If we could…?”

“Right,” Grantaire says. “Blood test.”

It’s not that Grantaire’s scared of needles. He just… He’s not fond of having things stuck into his veins. And he’s not fond of having his blood outside of his body. He stares at the ceiling for the duration of the test, unable to bring himself to look at the needle, or the blood, or anything to do with it, actually.

He’s in a daze as the nurse confirms that he’s pregnant, and when she starts to explain about his health, and how to keep the baby healthy, what foods and drinks to avoid and whatnot, Grantaire takes hold of Joly’s hand and holds it tightly.

-

When he gets back to Joly’s flat and tells Bossuet and Musichetta that he’s pregnant, Musichetta takes his hand, and he can hear a smile in her voice as she asks, “How far along are you?”

“Five weeks,” he says, a smile also slipping onto his face. “Apparently the baby already has a _heart_.”

“Are you going to tell Enjolras? You know, he’s going to notice when you start putting on a few pounds.”

“I know. I’m just… scared.”

“Don’t be. He loves you, R.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire says, quietly. He coughs, and looks down at his feet. “I’ll tell him,” he decides.

-

Grantaire approaches Enjolras while he’s working, and asks, quietly, “Can we talk?”

Enjolras looks up from his laptop, frowning. “Sure, what’s wrong?” he asks, looking concerned at Grantaire’s hesitant attitude.

“I- Um- See the thing is-” He breaks off, shuffling his feet a little, finding it hard to maintain eye-contact. It’s just two words, and he can’t seem to be able to say them.

Enjolras continues to look at him worriedly. “R, love, you’re scaring me,” he says, earnestly. “What’s wrong?”

Grantaire can feel tears pricking his eyes and it must be obvious, because Enjolras’ arms are suddenly around him, holding him close. Enjolras presses a kiss to the top of his head, making soft shushing sounds.

Pressed close to Enjolras’ chest, he manages to mumble the words: “I’m pregnant.”

Silence follows and a tear slowly slides down Grantaire’s cheek.

Pulling away, Enjolras says, in a slightly strangled voice, “I don’t think I heard you right. What was that?”

Grantaire looks up at him, and his lower lip trembles. “I’m pregnant,” he says again.

He watches as it clicks inside Enjolras’ mind, watches the shock spread across his face, and then, slowly, as a smile lights up his features. Enjolras lifts a hand and covers his mouth, but the smile is still obvious in his eyes, and then Enjolras lets out a soft laugh.

“You’re pregnant,” he says, sounding in disbelief, lowering his hand. Then he says it again, stronger, more sure. “You’re _pregnant_.”

A noise slips out of him, that Grantaire can only describe as a squeal, and he grabs Grantaire round the waist, picking him up and spinning him round, beaming. He puts Grantaire down and pulls him in for a hug. “That’s amazing, R, oh my God!” He pulls away and his hands drop to Grantaire’s stomach, staring there with a look of awe on his face. “I’m a dad,” he says, sounding utterly amazed. He meets Grantaire’s eyes and says, “We’re dads,” seemingly unable to stop smiling.

Grantaire just continues to stare at him in pure shock and Enjolras seems to get that suddenly, freezing and saying, slowly, “We are… We’re keeping it, right? The baby? I mean- If you don’t want to- It’s your choice- I wouldn’t-”

Grantaire breathes out sharply and says, “We’re keeping it.”

Enjolras’ smile returns as quickly as if it never left, and he pulls Grantaire in for a kiss.

Grantaire melts against him, sudden relief flooding through him, and he breathes out shakily into the kiss. “I didn’t-” he half says, against Enjolras’ lips. Then, quietly, “I didn’t think you’d be this happy about it.”

Enjolras looks down at him, looking horrifically sad in this moment, and he softly says, “ _What_?”

Grantaire repeats what he said, and Enjolras says, “No, I heard you. I meant how could you think that? Have I- Have I done anything to make you- _R_.” He wraps his arms around Grantaire, pulling him in for a hug, and Grantaire clings to him. “Grantaire, I _love_ you,” Enjolras says, mouth close to his ear so that he doesn’t miss a single word. “I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. I want to wake up with you every single day. I want to be the one that gets to see you when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re ill, and when you’re so tired all you want to do is curl up in bed. I want to be with you, and all that entails. That includes a family, R. Oh, God, I love you so much. You’re going to make such a wonderful dad, and the thought that it’s my child too is just- I _love_ you.”

Grantaire lets the words soak into him, and he breathes out against Enjolras’ shoulder. “I love you, too,” he whispers, eventually.

“When did you find out?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire tenses and says, “Please don’t be mad.”

Enjolras pulls back and looks at him. “I’m not going to be mad.”

“A week ago. I’m six weeks pregnant,” he says.

Enjolras takes a deep breath. “R,” he says. “Have you- You’ve told someone, right? You haven’t been struggling with this alone, have you?”

Grantaire feels a bit ashamed that the other father of the baby wasn’t the second to know. “Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta,” he admits. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first.”

“We’re going to have a baby,” is all Enjolras says to that, and Grantaire can’t do anything but smile up at him.

-

That night as they lie in bed together, Enjolras’ hands keep drifting to Grantaire’s abdomen, and Grantaire giggles. “You’re not going to be able to feel anything for a few more weeks, Enj,” he informs him. “And even then it’ll just be a tiny bump.”

Enjolras laughs softly and presses his forehead against Grantaire’s shoulder. “I just- I can’t get over the fact that we made a baby, R.”

Grantaire smiles into the dark. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras says. “I love you.”

“You’re saying that a lot today,” Grantaire tells him.

“I should say it more often than I do,” Enjolras replies. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Grantaire replies. “Now, let me get some sleep before I need to get up to pee or eat again.”

Enjolras laughs again and wraps his arms around Grantaire just a little tighter, pressing a kiss to the nearest stretch of skin that he can reach.

-

“So,” Enjolras says, almost a week later, “are we planning on telling our friends?”

Grantaire looks up from the book he’s reading and pulls a face. “I get my first ultrasound in a few weeks, right? So we could tell them after that if you wanted, it’s just…”

“What?” Enjolras asks, frowning.

Grantaire sighs, putting down his book and turning fully towards Enjolras. “In the first trimester I’m most at risk of having a miscarriage, okay? And I don’t want to hurt my friends if that happens.”

“Oh,” Enjolras says. Then, “Um, how long’s the first… trimester?”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. Then he starts to laugh. “You’re joking, right?” He looks at Enjolras’ face, which looks utterly bewildered. “Y’know, I’m really surprised that you haven’t gone out and bought every book on childcare and pregnancy that you can find.” Enjolras suddenly looks embarrassed, and Grantaire says, “You’ve ordered them online and they haven’t arrived yet, have they?” dryly.

Enjolras bites his lip. “Yeah,” he says.

“The first trimester ends at thirteen weeks. I’m at seven weeks.” Enjolras looks somewhat disappointed and Grantaire sighs. “We _can_ tell them. Nothing’s actually stopping us.”

“I just… I don’t think I can keep it a secret from them for that long,” Enjolras admits. “R, I’m just so excited and I want them to share this with us.”

“I know,” Grantaire says. “Okay. We wait until I’ve had the first ultrasound, yes? That’s only three weeks away. That way we have something to show them when Jehan gets too excited.”

Enjolras smiles. “Okay.”

-

Grantaire stiffens as the nurse squirts the weird jelly stuff onto his stomach. Enjolras immediately tenses too, and panics, asking, “R? What’s wrong?”

Grantaire looks at him and makes himself not laugh. “It’s just cold. Calm down, Enj.”

Enjolras’ eyes don’t leave him. “I’m calm.”

“No, you’re not,” Grantaire says, smiling. “I’m the one with the living thing inside me,” he reminds his boyfriend.

“I know, love, I know,” Enjolras replies. “And I’m the one with no control over any of this.”

Grantaire just rolls his eyes.

When it comes time to see their baby for the first time on the screen, Grantaire suddenly feels unbelievably nervous. He squeezes Enjolras’ hand a little too tightly at first, but when the nurse shows them on the screen, everything becomes so much easier.

That’s his child. That’s his living child. Holy shit.

He’s not really listening to what the nurse is saying, but he knows he can count on Enjolras to do that for him. Distantly, he hears her confirm that there is a heartbeat, and Grantaire feels a rush of relief.

He breaths out, softly, and that’s when Enjolras turns to look at him, and his eyes are filled with tears. Grantaire can’t do anything but smile back at him.

That’s their child.

-

“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” Enjolras asks, for what must be the thousandth time today, when the bell rings. Grantaire restrains himself from rolling his eyes and tells Enjolras that _yes_ , he’s sure.

They’ve opted to invite everyone over to their flat to tell them the news, since Grantaire’s feeling a little tired and not at all in the mood to sit in a bar when he can’t even drink.

Enjolras goes to answer the door, and soon returns with half the group on his tail. Clearly, they carpooled.

Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are here, and Grantaire silently thanks them for not ruining the surprise for everyone else with an extra-long hug for the three of them. They must have guessed why they’re all here, because Joly winks at him, and Musichetta looks positively thrilled.

Bahorel and Feuilly are also here, currently helping themselves to beer from the fridge. Bahorel offers Grantaire one, who declines, and gets an odd look for it. Thankfully, Bahorel doesn’t push it, because Grantaire really wants to tell everyone at once. He’s dying to hear Jehan squeal and also see who the first to cry is.

When finally everyone has arrived, Enjolras takes Grantaire’s hand, sitting down on the sofa beside him. “We have some big news to tell you,” he says, clearly unable to stop smiling.

Grantaire can see the calculating look on everyone’s faces, and he can tell that Combeferre and Cosette have both worked it out – though he supposes that the two doctors _should_ be able to tell.

“You’re getting married!” Courfeyrac guesses.

“No,” Enjolras says, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. That’s a discussion for another day.

Then, sounding horrified, “You’re breaking up…?” from Jehan.

“No!” Grantaire exclaims. “Oh my God, no.” He looks at Jehan and smiles. “I’m pregnant.”

There’s silence for a heartbeat, and then Jehan screams.

The five people that knew and the two that guessed laugh, while the rest of the group sit in stunned silence.

Éponine’s the first to speak, letting out a surprised sounding, “Congratulations, holy shit!”

Grantaire laughs as the rest of the group are quick to join in with their congratulations.

“I wanna be godfather!” Bahorel yells over the ruckus.

“No way, I’m godfather!” Joly and Bossuet both reply, angrily.

“You’re all godparents, holy shit,” Grantaire says, rolling his eyes. “Now, who wants to see a picture of it?”

“You can’t call them ‘it’,” Enjolras chides as Grantaire pulls the ultrasound picture out of his pocket.

Grantaire rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. “It’s inside me, I’ll call it what I want. Or I can start calling it things like ‘monkey’ or ‘peanut’ if you want.”

“I prefer that to ‘it’,” Enjolras says.

“Show us a picture!” Bahorel yells.

Grantaire laughs and hands the picture across to Bahorel, and the whole group crowds around him to see the baby.

There’s silence for a minute and then, “Awww,” and, “It has _legs_ ,” and, “Look at its little arms, oh gosh.”

“Stop calling them ‘it’,” Enjolras protests.

The comments quickly change to, “Peanut’s so _tiny_ ,” and, “Look at our little doughnut.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes at them all, but Grantaire feels so full of love for their friends in this moment. He looks over at Enjolras and smiles. Enjolras wraps an arm around him and gives him a squeeze as their friend’s coo over the picture.

“I love you,” Grantaire says, quietly.

“You too,” Enjolras replies.

“When’s the due date?” Éponine asks, looking up from the picture.

“March 14th,” Grantaire says, with a smile. His hands drift automatically towards his stomach. “God, I’m gonna get so fat,” he says, with a laugh.

Éponine grins at him. “I think pregnancy will suit you. You’ve already got that _glow_ ,” she teases.

Grantaire sticks his tongue out at her, while Enjolras kisses his temple. “You’ll always look great to me,” he says, and Grantaire feels himself go red as all their friends go, “Awww,” mockingly. Except Cosette. Grantaire thinks she’s still genuine.

-

“Enjolras!” Grantaire screams.

It’s almost funny how fast Enjolras gets into the room, looking flushed and out of breath. “What? What? What is it?”

Grantaire looks at him with a bright grin, and he can see Enjolras’ panic morph into confusion. “I have a bump!” he declares, happily lifting his top for Enjolras to see.

Enjolras breathes out sharply. “ _Fuck_ , R, I thought you were dying or something.”

Grantaire giggles. “Nope. Now come touch my stomach.”

Enjolras smiles at that and comes over, his cold hands reaching out and running gently over Grantaire’s skin, feeling the slight bump there. “Wow,” he says, softly. “R, that’s our kid in there.”

Fondly, Grantaire looks at his boyfriend. “You’re gonna be such a great dad,” he says.

Enjolras’ eyes find his, and he leans in for a brief kiss. “We’re both going to be great,” he promises.

-

“What are we gonna call it?” Enjolras asks, fingers trailing over the bump that seems to grow bigger every day as they lie in bed.

Grantaire shrugs. “We’ve got a while to think of names.” He glances over his shoulder to look at Enjolras. “What about Louis?”

Enjolras gives him a cold look. “I will leave you and the baby if you suggest that again.”

Grantaire just giggles. “No, you won’t. I wish I’d gotten a picture of your face when I told you – blackmail for days, my friend.”

“Right,” Enjolras says, “because it’s such a terrible thing that I love my boyfriend and our unborn child.” He presses a kiss to the back of Grantaire’s neck. “We should come up with a list each and compare. If any match, that’d be a good way to decide.”

Grantaire hums. “Not a bad idea.”

“None of my ideas are bad,” Enjolras says, wriggling closer.

Grantaire presses back against him. “Some of your ideas are bad.” He wriggles his butt back against Enjolras’ crotch, and Enjolras subtly tries to angle his hips away.

“Oh, yeah?” Enjolras asks. Grantaire presses back again, and runs his fingers over Enjolras’ wrist. Enjolras lets out a stifled moan. “Gran _taire_ ,” he whines. “Stop.”

Grantaire just giggles again. “But it’s been so long,” he complains.

“That’s because you’re pregnant,” Enjolras whispers against the back of Grantaire’s neck.

Grantaire rolls over to face him, one hand running down Enjolras’ body. “We can still have _sex_ , Enjolras. We’ve _been_ having sex.”

“But you’re getting really big now, and I’m worried about hurting the baby,” Enjolras says.

“I _need_ you,” Grantaire murmurs, fingers skimming the edge of Enjolras’ briefs.

Enjolras groans. “ _Fine_ ,” he gives in, “but it’s going to be _gentle_.”

Grantaire grins in what can only be victory and leans in to kiss him.

-

Pen tapping, Grantaire tries to remember _any_ name that he knows. He’s coming up blank. Every name that he can think of either has negative connotations, or one of their friends is called that. Or it’s one of their friend’s siblings, or pets, or exes, or- The point is, all the names he can think of are already taken, and it’s frustrating beyond belief.

Idly he wonders how Enjolras is doing with the whole baby name scenario.

-

“Do we want to know the sex of our baby?” Grantaire asks Enjolras one day, in the car on the way to the hospital for a check-up.

Enjolras glances at him momentarily. “I’d rather it be a surprise, but if you want to know, I’m okay with that.”

Grantaire smiles. “I’d rather wait, too.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” Enjolras says.

-

“Enj?” Grantaire says. “I’ve- I’ve thought of a name I like.”

“Yeah?” Enjolras asks, quietly.

“Yeah.” Grantaire says. “Amalie.”

Enjolras is quiet for a moment, and Grantaire thinks that maybe he hates it, but then he echoes, “Amalie,” as if trying it out. He smiles. “Yeah, I like it. What if the baby’s a boy?”

“I don’t know. All the names I could think of are people we already know,” Grantaire admits with a sigh.

“I like the name Lucas,” Enjolras offers.

Trying to remember if he’s ever met a Lucas, Grantaire considers it. “Lucas,” he whispers. “Yeah, that’s nice.” He looks down at his stomach. “Lucas or Amalie, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Enjolras says.

-

“Why the _fuck_ don’t we have salted popcorn?” Enjolras hears Grantaire yell, accompanied by the sounds of his pregnant boyfriend pulling items out of the cupboard and dumping them on the side.

Enjolras grins and heads into the room, stopping in the doorway to look at Grantaire with amusement, as he stands on his tiptoes to see into the cupboard.

“You don’t _like_ salted popcorn. We never have salted popcorn,” Enjolras points out.

Grantaire goes back onto flat foot and turns to face him. “I was hoping some might have materialised.”

Enjolras smiles. “Do you want me to go get some?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire says. “Oh! And get one of those chocolate orange things, too? And some gravy! Not just gravy on its own though – get me some Yorkshire puddings to go with it, right?”

Enjolras raises an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Nah, that sounds good for now.”

Enjolras lets out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll be back in a bit. You going to be alright here?”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you!”

-

A few weeks later, Grantaire’s sitting in a coffee shop with Éponine and Cosette, staring longingly at their drinks. He looks down at his own cup of apple juice and sighs.

“I’d kill for a coffee,” he says, sadly.

“I’ll let you have a sip of mine,” Éponine offers, clearly feeling sorry for him.

Grantaire shakes his head. “It’s not good for the baby.”

Éponine scoffs. “A sip’s not gonna kill him.”

“This is my first child; I’m not going to fuck this up, Ponine,” he replies, with a pointed look.

Cosette takes a sip of her own coffee, and Grantaire almost caves, but then she muses, “Your _first_.” He raises an eyebrow at her. “That makes it sound like you’re going to have more.”

He shrugs. “We haven’t talked about it, but I wouldn’t mind more.”

Cosette and Éponine smile. “Well,” Cosette says, “seeing the way Enjolras looks at you these days, I don’t think he’s against it either.”

“What do you mean ‘the way he looks at me’?” Grantaire asks, with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” Cosette says. “He always looks at you like you’re the best thing to walk the Earth, but you should see the way he fucking lights up at the sight of you all round and _pregnant_. I don’t know man; it’s some male bullshit, I reckon. He likes seeing you carrying his kid.”

Grantaire laughs, and Éponine says, “He’s a possessive jerk who loves you a lot, is what she’s saying.”

“Well,” Grantaire says, “I like carrying his kid, so we’ll see how it goes. We should probably get through the first one before we think about a second.” He raises his glass. “To the future.”

“To the future,” Cosette echoes.

Éponine smiles and raises her mug.

-

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asks, sounding amused and still half asleep.

Grantaire looks up from where he’s sitting on the kitchen floor, plate of mashed potatoes and gravy on the floor in front of him, fork in hand. “I’m hungry,” he says, defensively.

“It’s four AM,” Enjolras informs him.

“I know,” Grantaire replies. “Come have some – it’s delicious.”

“I’ll let you have it,” Enjolras says, but comes to sit beside him anyway. “What is it with you and gravy?” he asks.

“It’s so good, you have no idea. The salty, meaty flavour _mmm,_ ” he moans around a mouthful of the food.

Enjolras leans into him, cuddling up on the cold lino floor. “Well hurry up and eat. I want to go back to the warmth.”

Grantaire chuckles and takes another bite. “You can, you know? I’ll be okay here. I’ve got my gravy.”

His boyfriend laughs. “Nah, I’ll stay right here with you.”

-

“Baby, massage my feet, would you?” Grantaire asks, sprawled out across the sofa. “I can barely move.”

Enjolras, sitting at the dinner table with his laptop, looks across. “I’m a little busy, sweetie.”

Grantaire groans and angles his head to try and look at his boyfriend. “You’re cruel.” Then he looks down at the large bump and scowls. “When will the baby _leave_?”

“Eighteen years,” Enjolras answers, distractedly.

“I meant from my uterus, you asshole.” Grantaire pokes his belly. “It’s time for you to go, kid! Be gone from my body!” He sighs. “I’m never going to get back in shape,” he says. “I’m gonna have to go running, do sit-ups, eat _healthily_.”

Enjolras laughs, closing his laptop and turning to face him. “I’ll accept round as a shape,” he tells Grantaire, who sticks his tongue out at him. He gets to his feet and stretches, before crossing the room and lifting Grantaire’s feet to sit down where they were. Placing Grantaire’s feet in his lap, he starts to massage the left foot, and Grantaire lets out a moan of pleasure.

“This is better than sex,” he mumbles.

“Clearly your memory isn’t what it used to be,” Enjolras replies.

“I can’t even remember what you look like,” Grantaire says. “The bump is completely blocking your face.”

Laughing, Enjolras lifts himself up a little so that Grantaire can see him.

“Oh, yeah,” Grantaire says. “Damn, I really got lucky.”

Enjolras grins at him. “Bahorel and Feuilly are coming over in a bit,” he reminds Grantaire.

“But I’m _tired_ ,” Grantaire complains.

“You’re always tired,” Enjolras replies. “You can sleep while they’re here. You know they won’t hold it against you. Besides, they just got back from Italy. They haven’t seen you in months!”

“I know,” Grantaire says. “Okay, whatever. I’ll just stay here on the sofa and let them fawn over my baby.”

-

There’s a knock at the door, and since Enjolras is in the bathroom, Grantaire just yells that it’s open.

The door swings open to reveal Bahorel and Feuilly, beaming.

“Look how fat you got, R!” Bahorel yells excitedly, coming in through the doorway, Feuilly just a few steps behind.

Grinning, Grantaire lifts a hand in greeting.  

“How’s pregnancy?” Feuilly asks, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of a chair.

“Not bad. You should try it some time. It’s the perfect way to get out of exercise.”

“ _Please_ ,” Bahorel says. “You _love_ exercise.”

Grantaire sighs. He really does miss boxing and fencing. “I really do,” he says. And _dancing_ , God, he misses being able to dance. “Anyway, are you going to embrace the pregnant one? Please, come place your hands upon my stomach and try and guess the sex of my child.”

“We’ve got a betting pool,” Enjolras informs them, coming into the room. “Grantaire’s not allowed to take part ever since Jehan declared that the person carrying the child has heightened senses about this stuff.”

“Boy,” Bahorel says.

“In that case, girl,” Feuilly says.

Enjolras laughs and goes to add their names to the list. “So far, Jehan, Cosette, Marius, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel think the baby is a boy, and Combeferre, Musichetta, Éponine, Feuilly, and I think the baby is a girl.”

“And what does Grantaire think?” Bahorel asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks at the pregnant man.

Grantaire opens his mouth to answer, but Enjolras gets there first. “Grantaire’s not allowed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Grantaire whines, as Bahorel rolls his eyes.

“I won’t change my answer depending on what R says,” Bahorel promises. “My name is firmly down on the boy list.”

Enjolras purses his lips, but then concedes. “I’m curious,” he says.

Grantaire grins and says, “I think that whatever gender my baby is, I’m still gonna love them the same.”

The other three groan, and Feuilly hits Grantaire on the arm. “Fucking sap,” he says.

“Language!” Enjolras quickly says.

Grantaire rolls his eyes as Bahorel and Feuilly look at Enjolras, confused. “Enj thinks that my baby’s gonna leave my vagina swearing like a sailor,” Grantaire explains.

Enjolras smiles. “I just don’t want their first word to be a swear word. Is that so bad?” He gets to his feet. “Anyone want a drink?”

“Please,” Bahorel says. “Got any beer?”

“Of course,” Enjolras says. “Feuilly?”

“Same, please.”

“R?”

“Same.”

“Okay, so beer for Bahorel and Feuilly, and _juice_ for Grantaire,” Enjolras says, pointedly.

“Ugh.”

“I love you, too.”

Grantaire sticks his middle finger up at Enjolras, who just smiles back, and then goes through to the kitchen to get the drinks. Feuilly gets to his feet, too, to go and help.

Bahorel heaves himself up onto the sofa with Grantaire. “Can I touch it?”

“Sure,” Grantaire says, lifting his shirt. Bahorel’s fingers are cold and hesitant, at first, but then he splays his hands across the skin, eyes wide in awe.

“ _Dude_ ,” he says, voice sounding reverent. “There’s a whole human in there!”

“I know,” Grantaire says, smiling. “She was kicking earlier, give her a minute and she might do it again.”

“She?” Bahorel asks.

“I don’t know. I just don’t like saying ‘it’ or ‘the baby’ all the time. So impersonal, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Bahorel says. He stays sitting with his hands across Grantaire’s bump and Grantaire smiles up at his friend.

Enjolras and Feuilly come back in, and pause, mid-laugh, at the sight of the two of them on the sofa. “Well,” Feuilly says, a smile clear in his voice, “what’s going on?”

Bahorel opens his mouth to answer, but then says, “Oh!” as the baby moves. “R! I felt it! I felt him move!”

Grantaire laughs as, instantly, Feuilly and Enjolras crowd around him too, sticking their cold hands on his stomach.

“Oh my god, you guys,” Grantaire says, but then holds still so that they’ll really know when the baby moves. Enjolras has felt it plenty of times, but Grantaire never gets tired of the way his face lights up when he feels it. Grantaire _does_ get tired of being kicked and having to run to the bathroom, but Enjolras and the knowledge that that’s his child in there really does make up for it.

-

“Here, R, hold this,” Bahorel says, balancing a can of beer on top of Grantaire’s round stomach and getting to his feet.

Grantaire looks down at the can indignantly. “What the fuck? I’m not a _shelf_!”

“No swearing around the baby!” Enjolras yells through from the kitchen.                           

“They’re still in my fucking uterus, fuck off!” Grantaire yells back.

The sound of Enjolras’ laughter echoes in from the other room, and Grantaire grins. His boyfriend comes into the room, holding a can of coke and a burger on a plate, and walks over to him, sitting down next to him and removing the can of beer to replace it with the plate.

Grantaire frowns at him, for using him as a shelf _again_ , and Enjolras laughs, leaning in for a kiss. Grantaire meets him halfway – or maybe quarter way; there’s only so far he can lean.

-

“Can I ask you something?” Enjolras asks, quietly, as he curls around Grantaire in bed. His fingers draw delicate patterns across Grantaire’s stretched skin.

“Sure,” Grantaire replies, still wide awake despite the late hour.

There’s a long pause, and Grantaire wonders if Enjolras accidentally fell asleep, but then he hears Enjolras take a deep breath. “It’s- It’s going to sound- You’re gonna make fun of me.”

Grantaire smiles into the darkness. “Just ask your question, love.” He shifts, trying to find a position that’s comfortable without dislodging Enjolras. The baby must be at an odd angle – that’s the only explanation that Grantaire can think of that might be causing the pain throughout Grantaire’s lower torso.

“You- You keep referring to the baby as… _your_ baby,” Enjolras says, softly. “You keep saying the words ‘my baby’, and I just- I thought-”

“Oh, Enjolras,” Grantaire interrupts. He rolls over a little so that he can see Enjolras in the dim light of their room. “Of course I mean ‘ _our_ baby’,” he says. “I didn’t even _think._ I’m just-”

“No, I get it,” Enjolras says. “I know. I’m just over-thinking.” He presses a kiss to the back of Grantaire’s neck. “Can I ask another question?”

Grantaire hums in response, allowing the other question.

“What sex _do_ you think the baby’s going to be?”

Grantaire thinks about it for a moment. “You know, I really don’t know. Some days I’m almost certain the baby will be a boy, and then other’s I think it’s going to be a girl. I don’t have a clue.”

“Oh,” Enjolras says. “One more?”

“Go ahead.”

“Will you marry me?”

Grantaire gasps at the unexpected question, and then he gasps again as pain shoots through his abdomen. “Ow,” he complains, prodding at his stomach. Then his eyes go wide as he feels dampness between his legs. “Enjolras?” he says, hesitantly. “I think my waters just broke.”

Enjolras sits up instantly, turning on the light and pulling back the covers, helping Grantaire into an upright position. “What do I do? Are you going to give birth? Should I call an ambulance?”

“First of all, calm down,” Grantaire says. “Remember to breath. In and out slowly, remember?”

“Those instructions were for _you_ during labour,” Enjolras says, breathing in and out heavily anyway.

“And when I need to do that, I will,” Grantaire says, gripping Enjolras’ hand, “but you’re the one freaking out right now, love. Okay, we should go to the hospital. Get me to the car.”

“No, the hospital said stay at home till you’re having regular contractions,” Enjolras protests.

Grantaire groans. “Okay, well at least let’s move. I want to walk around; I’ll be sitting down for God knows how long once this all kicks off.”

Enjolras helps him to his feet. “You sure about the natural birth?”

“Positive,” Grantaire replies, with a smile. “Enj, this is happening.”

“This is happening,” Enjolras confirms.

Together they walk through to the living room, and, there, they keep walking round, while Grantaire tries to deal with the pain inside him. “I know it’s going to get worse, but I already feel like dying,” Grantaire says. Enjolras goes pale at the words, and Grantaire immediately feels guilty. “Nothing I can’t handle, though,” he promises Enjolras. “My body’s built to deal with this shit.” He then groans as a contraction goes through him. “Call Musichetta,” he says.

Enjolras nods, and lets go of him to go and find his phone. “Can you stand?”

“Yes, Enjolras,” Grantaire says, rolling his eyes as his boyfriend leaves the room. He can hear Enjolras talking on the phone with Musichetta, he can hear the excitement in his voice, and Grantaire smiles.

When he comes back into the room, Grantaire’s pacing in front of the window, flailing his hands a little. “Doing okay?” Enjolras asks.

“Grand,” Grantaire replies, giving him a thumbs up. His other hand is wrapped around his bump. “Ugh,” he then says, “I’ve changed my mind. Baby, stay in there. Don’t bother coming out.”

Enjolras laughs and comes over to rub his lower back. “Chetta’s on her way with Joly and Bossuet. She seemed pretty excited.”

“At least someone is,” Grantaire says, picking up his pacing again.

“Don’t lie,” Enjolras says. “ _You’re_ excited too.”

“Hmm, true,” Grantaire says. “Also terrified.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras agrees. “Me too, sweetheart.”

Grantaire shoots him a grin. “Oh, fuck, here we go again,” he says. He tries to just let the contraction happen, but his whole body tenses. Enjolras is immediately by his side, holding his hand tightly. “Those seemed pretty close together?” Grantaire says, hesitantly. “But, like, I’ve only just started?”

“Let’s wait till Chetta’s here and then we can go to the hospital,” Enjolras says.

“Okay,” Grantaire agrees.

-

The drive to the hospital is a little hectic. With Grantaire in the back, clinging to Enjolras’ hand, while Musichetta tries to talk soothingly, and Joly drives, trying to keep his attention on the road, and Bossuet deciding that the best method to keep everyone calm is to sing, it’s a miracle they don’t crash.

When they pull up outside the hospital, Enjolras and Musichetta help Grantaire out the car, while Bossuet grabs Grantaire’s hospital bags from the boot of the car. “Let’s go,” Grantaire says, and sets off waddling for the entrance.

Enjolras actually laughs and quickly hurries after him.

It’s quite busy inside, but a pregnant person who’s clearly going into labour attracts attention fairly quickly, especially when said pregnant person all but yells, “This baby is coming out of me, whether we like it or not, and I don’t think you want it to happen here!”

They get led to a private room, where Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are told they can stay for now, but will have to leave in a bit. They all help Grantaire change into something a little more comfortable, while Bossuet puts Grantaire’s pillows on the bed.

The nurse is talking to them, informing Grantaire that she’ll be keeping an eye on things until it’s time to get a doctor. “Make sure you’re comfortable, we’ve got a CD player if you’d like to listen to some music, and if you need a drink and haven’t brought one we can provide that too.”

Grantaire nods, listening to her as Enjolras wraps Grantaire’s dressing gown around his shoulders. Grantaire shoots a smile at him.

Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet divide up the task of calling all their friends and telling them to get their arses to the hospital.

“I’m gonna lie down,” Grantaire decides, and, with Enjolras’ help, he makes his way over to the hospital bed and flops down onto the pillows. “I’m all sweaty,” he complains, pushing at the hair that’s sticking to his face.

“Beautiful,” Enjolras teases, helping him pull his hair out of his face.

Grantaire rolls onto his side, back facing Enjolras, and his hands press at his stomach. Enjolras sits next to him, massaging his back with one hand, and stroking his hair with the other. “Ow,” Grantaire complains, his voice all breathy.

“You’re going to get through this,” Enjolras reminds him. “You’re so strong and wonderful. All you gotta do is-”

“Push a baby out of my vagina,” Grantaire says, with a weak grin.

“Exactly,” Enjolras says. He gives Grantaire a slightly apologetic look for that.

Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta all get kicked out and told to go wait in the waiting room when it comes time for the nurse to check Grantaire’s dilation.

Joly stops to give Grantaire a quick kiss on the forehead, and Musichetta and Bossuet tell him that he’s gonna do great.

It’s a little weird, having someone wearing gloves stick their fingers in his vagina, but mostly it doesn’t bother him as much as he’d thought it would. It’s just how things are these days. ‘These days’ being the past nine months of pregnancy, that is.

When he’s fully dilated, the midwife begins to give him simple instructions on breathing, and then tells him to push.

He sort of loses track of time after that.

He distinctly remembers cursing Enjolras’ name for doing this to him at one point. _Fuck, it hurts_ , is the overwhelming impression that he has.

Eventually, God, eventually it’s over, and Grantaire takes deep gasping breaths still, trying to ignore the pain and discomfort that he’s in.

When the doctor says, “You have a little baby girl,” as she gathers the baby up in a blanket, Grantaire immediately forgets everything that just happened. He’s utterly exhausted, but he can see his child- his _daughter_.

“Oh,” Grantaire says, softly and tiredly. When his baby gets handed to him, he peers down at her. She has a little pink hat on her head, and she’s all wrapped up in a little white blanket. “Hello, Amalie,” he says. She’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He starts to smile, and a tear slides down his face. “She’s so small,” he whispers.

Enjolras is by his side, and he sits on the bed with Grantaire, looking at him with utmost adoration. “Can I hold her?” he asks.

Grantaire looks up at him with a smile and a small nod. “Sure. Be careful.”

Gently, he passes Amalie across to her other father, and gets more comfortable in the bed now that he doesn’t have a baby in his arms, so that he can watch Enjolras. Enjolras looks so happy, so content.

Grantaire gasps, suddenly, and Enjolras looks up from little Amalie, seemingly in alarm. Grantaire looks at him. “You proposed,” he says, remembering. “You asked me to marry you.”

“I did,” Enjolras says, slowly.

“Are you- Do you still want to- Um, propose?”

Enjolras huffs a laugh. “Grantaire, I am holding our new-born baby right this second. _Yes_ , I still want to marry you. I haven’t changed my mind in the last seven hours.”

“Oh, good,” Grantaire says, and he settles back onto his pillows with a smile.

Enjolras glances around the room. “So…” he says. “Are you- Are you saying ‘yes’, or…?”

Grantaire looks at his boyfriend, holding their little girl, and he smiles. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The way Enjolras’ face lights up is so beautiful, and Grantaire would almost say that it was the most beautiful thing in the room, if it weren’t for the fact that Amalie is laying there, her pink face all scrunched up and her tiny fist waving as she works out how to move.

Looking at him, Enjolras’ eyes are shining. “This is the happiest day of my life,” he says, simply.

“Mine too,” Grantaire whispers, tears filling his eyes. He wipes them away, laughing at himself. “God, I’m tired,” he says.

Enjolras smiles down at him and leans in to press a kiss to Grantaire’s forehead. “Get some rest,” he says, passing Amalie back to him. “I’ll go tell the others the good news, and then I’ll come right back. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Grantaire says. “Bring them through to see her – I doubt I’ll be able to sleep anyway.”

-

Enjolras can’t stop smiling all the way down the corridor, and when he comes out into the waiting room, and finds all of his friends in varying degrees of consciousness, sprawled out on the chairs, he nearly bursts into tears. Bossuet’s the first to notice him, barely managing more than a pointed finger and a high-pitched squeal, but it’s enough to get everyone on their feet, crowding round him, hugging him, and asking questions at the speed of light.

“All right, all right!” Enjolras protests. “I have a little baby girl named Amalie,” he tells them, and watches the delight spread across their faces. “Do you want to meet her?”

At least half of them yell in the affirmative.

They all head down the corridor, and there’s so many of them, and the doctors try to stop them all – but they know Combeferre and Joly and Cosette, so just let it slide after slight vocal disapproval.

“They won’t stay long,” Combeferre promises the doctor that he’s clearly friends with. Enjolras nods in agreement.

Enjolras is at the back of the group, and he hears when his friends see Amalie for the first time. He can hear Grantaire’s happy laughter too, and his gentle reminders to everyone to stay quiet and not disturb his little girl.

Enjolras squeezes past them all to sit beside Grantaire on the bed.

“Everyone, this is Amalie. Amalie, this is everyone,” Grantaire says. He strokes her cheek with one finger. “Don’t worry, I know there are a lot of faces, and yeah, they all have complicated names, but you’ll get it in no time. You’re going to be smart like your other dad, yeah? But even if you aren’t, we’re still going to love you. Oh, I hope you can draw. Your other dad can’t draw for shit, but I can. I’m real good at it, I’ll teach you. And your other dad can teach you… Uh… How to piss off the police?”

Enjolras elbows him in the side.

Grantaire grins. “Fine, your other dad can teach you how to get through university. That better?” he asks Enjolras.

Enjolras rolls his eyes fondly. “We’ll be fine,” he says.

“We’re going to have to come up with a way distinguish between the two dads, though,” Grantaire muses. “You could be ‘Dad’, and I’ll be ‘Chief.”

“You’re the worst,” Enjolras tells him, dryly.

Éponine sniggers, and Grantaire flashes a grin at her. He can tell that Joly’s itching to ask, so Grantaire then looks at him and says, “Wanna hold her?”

Joly nods eagerly, arms out to take the baby. Enjolras helps in passing her across. Cooing, Joly looks down at the little girl. Grantaire fondly looks at his best friend.

Grantaire’s life is good.

-

Turns out having a new-born is exhausting, and yet Grantaire can’t remember a time when he was happier. Enjolras bought him a shiny ring to signify their engagement, and their friends are round all the time to help with the baby and keep them from going mad. Most of all, Grantaire loves his little girl with all of his heart. It really is something else to look down and see a life that he created laying in his arms, gurgling happily.

The thing was, Grantaire had gotten so used to not having periods that he didn’t notice when, five months after Amalie was born, he missed one. He did, however, notice when he missed _two_.

Now Grantaire stands, once again, in the bathroom staring at the tampons and pads in the cupboard. In the next room, he can hear Amalie crying and Enjolras singing in an attempt to calm her down. Grantaire looks down at his stomach.

“Oh, fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a writing blog: theskyis-forever come say hi and leave a prompt :)  
> Also, if you enjoyed this: [buy me a coffee?](http://ko-fi.com/A831F9U)


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